The Reunion
by wayward-angel3
Summary: A year since the fall, and John returns to 221B Baker st. He gets a surprise visit from someone believed to be dead. Domestic johnlock. Enjoy and please review! (:
1. Chapter 1: John

The city streets of London were busy as always. Cars honking, people talking on their cell phones, the urban noises. John Watson was walking down Baker St. He stopped and looked up at the familiar black door. He had stopped in front of this door countless times before. He glanced up at the silver letters were becoming tarnished and ran his fingers over the brass knocker. The paint was peeling in some spots. He hadn't been back to 221B in a year, since Sherlock's death. The floors and the walls of his old flat held so many memories of their adventures together. He had been afraid to return, scared of what might haunt him. He didn't know what lurked behind the walls and crawled under the floor. The past was a very delicate thing. The doctor took a deep breath, and then unlocked the door and stepped inside.  
It looked exactly the same as when he left. He stood for a moment in the narrow corridor, remembering his first arrival at 221B. So much had changed since then. As John slowly climbed up the stairs, he ran his hand over the black, textured wall. Every scratch held a story. He closed his eyes as memories flooded his mind; memories of him and Sherlock leaning against the wall laughing, or running out the door with a new case to investigate. He felt a prick in the corners of his eyes. John trembled a little bit as he forced himself not to cry. By the time he got to the door of his flat, he was on the verge of completely breaking down, but he managed to keep his emotions together. He reached out to the doorknob, but hesitated for a second.  
"You can do this, John," he said to himself quietly. John slowly turned the latch and pushed the door open. It squeaked as it's hinges moved. The doctor walked in warily, setting his bags down and looking around. Everything was exactly the same; the animal skull on the wall with the headphones, the desk below it covered in stacks of papers, the mirror and the human skull on the shelf, even the wall with the bullet holes and the spray painted smiley face. But John knew that something, or someone was missing.  
"Sherlock.." he murmured sadly. He missed and longed for his friend, the detective. A year and John was still depressed. He sat down in his chair and put his head in his hands.


	2. Chapter 2: John

**Sorry for the short chapter. I ran out of ideas and was extremely tired. **

**The chapters are going to switch off from John's point of view to Sherlock's. Telling you so you wont be confused. THANKS (:**

The alarm clock rang. The soldier rubbed his eyes wearily and yawned. He swung his legs around the side of the bed and stood up tiredly, swaying a little bit. He ruffled his tousled blond hair. He walked out of his room and into the kitchen. He stretched up and took out some tea from the high wooden cupboard. He sleepily shuffled over to the fridge and swung it open, causing some of the containers to bump into each other and fall onto the floor. John kicked a jar of pickles that landed near his foot.  
"Dammit," he muttered. "Out of milk again. Some things never change, do they." He marched back into his room, threw on his coat, and grabbed his wallet. Then the doctor stormed out of his flat, slamming the door behind him angrily.

John stood outside in the cold, pulling his arms close to him for warmth. People walked past him, some rushed and others taking their time. A couple bumped into him and he was pushed against the wall. He leaned back and closed his eyes. Something across the street caught his attention. He looked across the street at the store's dark window. He noticed the dark silhouette of a tall and thin man staring back at him. He noticed the outline of his curly hair and his long overcoat. The mysterious man reminded him of someone. Sherlock.

"No, nope. That can't be him," John said under his breath. "Sherlock is dead. You're just seeing things." He shook his head and hailed a cab. On the drive to the supermarket, John couldn't stop thinking about what he saw. Was there a possibility that Sherlock was actually alive? He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. It was all too much.


	3. Chapter 3: Sherlock

It had been a year. A year since the fall. A year since he had seen John. Sherlock couldn't wait any longer. He had to find John and tell him the whole truth.

That night, the detective had arrived in London. He spent the night at a small hotel, and then went off to see his dear friend again. Sherlock had seen John standing outside,across the street from where Sherlock was standing. John had looked at him. He had looked at Sherlock but not seen him. It hurt Sherlock. To be looked at but not seen. He hated it. He wanted to run across the street to John and tell him that he was alive and everything was okay. But he had to wait. He waited patiently for what seemed like hours. Long, painful hours. At around 12:15, Sherlock saw a cab pull up in front of the corner of Baker street. He stood up and waited. He saw the door of the cab open. A man with dark black hair stepped out. Sherlock stopped. It wasn't John. Sherlock took a sharp breath, and walked out of the deserted store anyway. He glided across the street to his flat, making sure to not be seen.

The detective then reached into his coat pocket and fished out a small key. He inserted it into the keyhole and pushed open the door. He smiled and looked around. It was so good to be back. He made his way up the staircase and stopped in front of the door. He pushed it open slowly. The hinges creaked a little bit. Sherlock stood in the doorway, staring and, of course, deducing. He walked into the bedroom and found John's suitcase. The bed was messy and there were some clothes sprawled on the floor. Sherlock could tell that he had been here for 2 days, and mostly slept through the days. He picked up the bed sheet from off the floor. The scientist strode back into the living room and suddenly remembered something. He began frantically searching the room, knocking over books and throwing papers and pillows.  
"Where could John have put it?" he asked aloud. "Where could- OH." His eyes grew large and he ran back into the bedroom. He lifted John's suitcase onto the bed and began to look through it, tossing clothes everywhere.  
"Here!" he announced as he spun around, holding his old violin in his hands. "Oh I knew John would never throw you out!" he laughed and walked back into the living room. His smile faded as soon as he saw the blond man standing in the room, gaping and unable to speak or move.  
"John.."


	4. Chapter 4: John

**Sorry, this is chapter is really short. I promise to make the next chapter longer (:**

**Thank you to Sparkie98 for the review!**

"John.." Sherlock began. But John would not listen.  
"Sherlock, what- I mean, HOW THE HELL ARE YOU EVEN ALIVE?!" he shouted and paced the room nervously and angrily. He breathed heavily and ran a hand through his blond hair. He could feel his heart beating quickly. He stopped and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths.  
"John, please, listen to me," Sherlock said softly and calmly. But John was still too mad and confused to hear anything.  
"No, NO! You are dead, you died, I WATCHED YOU fall! This cannot be happening!" John didn't know what else to do or say. He wasn't sure whether or not to be angry, relieved, happy, he trembled a little bit.  
"I must be dreaming, I have to be. Or th-this must be some kind of trick. No, no." he sat down and rubbed his head. Sherlock walked over to him sternly.  
"John, just please shut up and listen. I am not dead. I am completely alive. And I'm back and everything will be okay." Sherlock sat down next to John and rubbed his back, trying to comfort him. Tears began to roll down John's face. He looked up at Sherlock, his eyes wet and glistening.  
"I was so alone, Sherlock. You left me alone. For so long." his voice cracked.  
"I know, John. I'm so sorry, I really am. But I had to. I had to for you," Sherlock said softly. He wrapped his arm around the doctor's shoulder.  
"I'm back and I won't leave you again. I promise."


End file.
